The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries #1)(57)

He would never, ever, let her know how much power she had over him.

Ahead of him, Grace and her red umbrella turned down an alley. It was a shortcut to the coffee shop. Sean stopped. It would seem weird if someone followed her down the narrow alley. He ducked into the deli next to the alley and bought his own cup of coffee. She would be a couple of minutes. Sean stared out the window and thought about the latest fight he’d had with his brother. Sean had argued that they should bring Grace in and offer to cut a deal with her. Ian had pointed out that they weren’t really in a position to cut a deal with anyone at all. Ian wanted to wait and see what happened. Sean knew what that meant. Ian had a plan, and he wasn’t sharing it with anyone.

The coffee burned down his throat, but Sean welcomed the heat. It wasn’t more than two days ago that he was running after Grace’s afternoon coffee. He’d also spent the day cooking for her and preparing to take care of her when she got home from work. He was such an idiot.

Their relationship would be different this time around. Ian was right. He needed a twenty-four/seven sub. If Grace wanted his protection, she would accept him as her permanent Master. She would wear his collar and his ring.

No, she won’t. She’ll more than likely hit you upside the head with that cast iron skillet her mama bought her, Taggart. What makes you think she’ll come to you when she’s got the ménage boys?

Sean remembered the soft way she’d submitted to him. She might have lied when she said she loved him, but there was no faking her response to him sexually. She’d been so hot for him. She’d been willing to do anything he asked. For all their kinks, Jake and Adam weren’t Doms, and Sean didn’t see how they could ever truly please a submissive like Grace. Sex would be the key to handling Grace.

He would tie her up and let her sweat a little. He was incredibly good with a single-tail. He would crack the whip and tease her until she begged him to take her. He’d think about it. It wouldn’t do to give in too quickly, no matter how much his dick begged for it. He’d leave her on the St. Andrew’s Cross for awhile. He’d use a vibe on her * and clamps on those tits of hers. He wouldn’t let her come until he was ready. He would be in charge.

Sean stared out the window as people walked by. Women with umbrellas, kids splashing in the puddles as their moms tried to haul them along, a couple of men rushed by the window. A man in a baseball hat caught Sean’s eye. He wasn’t rushing. He was walking patiently as though the rain didn’t bother him. His face was turned away, but Sean had the vague impression he’d seen the man before. Someone from Grace’s office?

He glanced up at the clock, surprised to see ten minutes had passed. She should have been walking back by now. A little frisson of fear crackled along his skin making goose bumps flare along his arms. Where was Grace?

He chucked the coffee and went back out into the rain. It was coming down harder now. Maybe she was just being sensible. She should wait in the comfort of the shop and enjoy her afternoon fix out of the rain. It made sense. So why was his stomach in knots?

The wind picked up, and Sean watched in dawning horror as Grace’s red umbrella skittered across the pavement. The wind lifted it like a vibrant balloon escaping gravity. It rushed past him before hitting the street and rolling away. Sean ran. His feet seemed as though they were weighed down. It took forever to run the half-block to the little alley Grace had disappeared down. Time seemed ridiculously slow, and then it stopped all together.

Sean felt his stomach drop as he caught sight of the body in the alley. She was face first in the rain, her limbs at odd angles as though the body had tried to move, but discovered the task impossible.

“Grace.” His voice was little above a whisper. He couldn’t find the scream that should have come naturally.

Please answer. Please get up. Please, please f*cking wake up. This is a dream, a really bad dream. I’m going to wake up and be sitting in the van outside Grace’s house. Just wake up.

His hands started to shake as he moved toward her. She was so still, and then he saw the strange, red water rush by his feet down toward the storm gutter. He stared at it dumbly for a moment before realizing what it was. Blood. Oh God, Grace’s blood was running down the street and into the gutter.

He ran, stumbling toward her, tears in his eyes mixing with the rain on his face. He hit his knees when he saw the knife in her back. The handle was simple and wicked at the same time. It was buried in her black raincoat. It would have cut through the gray blouse she was wearing today and made its way into her lungs.

She wasn’t breathing. Somewhere deep inside, he knew she was gone. All of his training told him that wound was fatal. Still, he prayed. He didn’t try to take the knife out. That would make things worse, if there was anything left to make worse. In the back of his mind, he realized he should be running after the man in the baseball cap. He’d been the one to kill Grace. He should be up and running to avenge the woman he loved. So why did he sit in the alley crying? Why did this wretched grief shove out all other thoughts? It froze him in place, and he wondered suddenly if he would ever be able to move again.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He turned Grace’s body over. They would find him here with her. They would find him crying in the freaking rain, and he didn’t care. He stared down into her face.

“Grace?”

It wasn’t Grace’s eyes that stared unseeingly up at him. It was her friend, the funny, flirty one who had threatened him with grave bodily injury if he broke her friend’s heart. Kayla. She’d pulled him aside that second day on the job and warned him. He’d been impressed by her ferocity. Kayla was dead, not Grace. Kayla, who was wearing Grace’s raincoat and carrying her umbrella. Kayla, who had pulled her hair back in a scarf to protect it from the rain. He’d mistaken Kayla for Grace. Grace made her way to the coffee bar every day by the same route at the same time.